Exploring 'WannaBeat': A Conversation with David Polonoff on Life and Art in Baby Beat San Francisco
David Polonoff is an esteemed author and chronicler of bohemian culture, having actively engaged in various countercultural movements over the past five decades, including Haight-Ashbury, Punk, and Dimes Square, and holds degrees in philosophy from Yale and New York University. His satirical commentaries on culture and politics were frequently published in the Village Voice, East Village Eye, and New York Newsday during the 1980s and early '90s, later compiled in the book Down the Yup Staircase.
Polonoff also contributed extensively to discussions on dotcom and IT culture through his blog, all while working as a quality assurance engineer, where he designed test suites for financial systems. Born in New Haven, Connecticut, and raised in Portland and San Francisco, Polonoffis is well-versed in the cultural nuances of both coasts but currently resides in New York. This year, Polonoffis released his debut novel, WannaBeat, which I got to discuss with him in an interview.
I'd like to start with some of your previous writing experiences. I noticed that you've written for several newspapers and had a blog at one point. How do you think those experiences impacted Wannabe?
“Well, they made me want to write something that I could take more time with and that would be longer in its approach to its themes. In the 80s and early 90s, I was a freelance writer, and most of my work consisted of short pieces, largely focused on political and social satire. It was a challenging time to write in that genre because it was pre-Daily Show and Colbert. Back then, comedians and political figures didn't often mix humor and politics, so it was tough going. I started with the East Village Eye, a small but influential local publication, and I believe they were the first to use the term "hip hop." They were ahead of their time in many ways. I also wrote for the Village Voice, but nothing longer than 5,000 words. Blogging, similarly, required writing even shorter pieces. I took a long hiatus from writing when I transitioned into IT work, which led to a period of writer's block. I did have a blog about my IT experiences and later started a YouTube channel in 2014, focusing on political satire. Eventually, I decided to return to writing, initially aiming to write short stories, but they always seemed to get longer.”
What message did you hope that your readers would take away from WannaBeat?
“Well, that's one of the unique aspects of writing a novel as opposed to other forms; I don't think there's a single message I intended. The book is, I suppose you could call it historical autofiction, to use a trendy term. Certain elements in the book are based on my own experiences, while others are experiences of my character, Phillip, that I didn't personally have but felt fit his trajectory. I suppose the overarching message is that the act of creation is perhaps sacred and extremely important. Many societal forces try to prevent people from connecting with their creative powers—these forces can be economic, social, age-related, or demographic. There's often a sense that nothing new can be added because of all that has come before.
The novel is set in a period where old paradigms were failing. The post-war period's beatniks, hippies, and counterculture were no longer producing much new material; their efforts seemed repetitious. People attempting something new often found themselves floundering, much like the protagonist of the book. However, they remained connected to the idea of creativity, whether it was about revolution, the transformation of consciousness, or simply creating art that moves people and makes them feel free. That's what's important: readers should recognize the importance of creativity, hold on to it, and seek it out wherever possible.”
What was the origin of the title WannaBeat?
“The origin of the title is rooted in my experiences living in San Francisco from 1976 to 1978. At that time, I was in a state of disarray, which I rationalized as a commitment to revolution and a way of living that resisted selling out to the capitalist order. In retrospect, I realized that my perspective was shaped by a privileged, middle-class, male viewpoint. I was fortunate to be in a position where I didn't have to work every day and could see myself as a creative individual unbound by conventional rules. Reflecting on that period, I saw that I was grappling with personal turmoil and questioning my purpose. This led me to write about it. As I worked through these issues, I recognized that the period I was writing about was quite unique. It marked the end of one era and the beginning of another, with emerging forces like gentrification—though it wasn’t called that yet—and the early stages of the tech industry, long before it became the corporate entity it is today. It was fascinating to revisit that time and observe how the initial ideals evolved into something quite different. What started as an effort to understand and perhaps justify my own experiences ultimately became a narrative about an entire era.”
In the entirety of the rest of the book, you didnt mention history or information about the location of the character, but chapter 16 was all about the history of San Fransisco, what was the relevance of this?
“When I was in San Francisco, I started writing a novel that I never finished. It aimed to recast San Francisco at that moment as it was after the Gold Rush. Looking back, I see this as a curious remnant of my earlier work in political satire.I took classes at the Upright Citizens Brigade and other improv theaters that taught sketch writing. They often emphasized identifying the "game" of a sketch, which involves drawing parallels between seemingly disparate elements, whether on a punning or deeper level. I found that if I could draw a parallel between the present and something historical, it added a layer of depth to my writing.
My view of San Francisco was that it represented a place of cyclical booms and busts of consciousness. Historically, the Gold Rush era was a time when people of various backgrounds believed they could strike it rich and transform their lives. Similarly, the “Summer of Love” in the 60s was seen as an opportunity for people from all walks of life to seek higher consciousness and radically change their lives. San Francisco historically embodied a promise of transformation and the role it played in the counter-narrative to mainstream American success. It was a place where people dropped out of mainstream society to find their true selves in subcultures of like-minded individuals. That was the essence of San Francisco until the last 25 years, and it was crucial for me to explore this historical context.
In Chapter 16, I meet an artist who considers himself an alchemist. He’s a film and poster artist working on a project about San Francisco’s history, which is why I connected with him. More broadly, I believe that to truly understand a place, you need to know the dreams, art, and creations that have emerged from it. Sometimes these elements are universal, but often they are local, offering a richer understanding of the place and, consequently, of my own work.”
Touching back on the idea that people who lived in San Francisco went there to escape and find a community of like-minded individuals to be their true selves, do you think there’s a parallel between this idea and the extensive use of drugs in your book?
“There is certainly a parallel. Using drugs can be a means to either escape from oneself or achieve a state where you can see yourself more clearly or return with a new appreciation of yourself.
When I started writing the book in 2018, I aimed to address drug use as an exotic element for readers, especially in contrast to the prevalent normalization of cannabis. At that time, cannabis was becoming a ubiquitous part of the culture, and its exoticism was diminishing. Today, in places like New York, you might find it hard to avoid getting high from secondhand smoke. In researching contemporary Bohemia, including the so-called Dime Square scene and reading substack articles by people like Mike Crumpler, it seems that drug use has evolved, with even more substances now in circulation. While I mention ketamine in the book, it is much more prevalent today than it was back then. Psychedelics like peyote were also mentioned, but during that time, people were largely burned out from psychedelics. The major substances of abuse then were primarily cocaine and heroin.
Although I wasn’t a heavy drug user myself, many people around me were. Historically, it seems that there has always been a significant drug component in literary and art scenes, whether or not it was a defining feature of the artists themselves. Some of the concerts and events I describe, particularly the early punk shows with intense pogoing, were almost like out-of-body experiences, where people would jump up and down for hours, often reaching a state of hyperventilation and altered consciousness. So, removing oneself from one’s ordinary state is indeed an important aspect of these experiences and the culture I was exploring.”
Do you think the punk scene and movement changed perspectives on gender orientation and fluidity?
“Yes and no.
The punk scene didn't necessarily advance gender fluidity in the modern sense, but it did challenge traditional gender roles in music, at least for a time. From my perspective as a cis male, what stood out was the significant role women played in many early punk bands. Women fronted bands played guitar, and contributed in ways that were notably gender-integrated compared to mainstream culture, which was often dominated by machismo rock and stadium rock.
In terms of gender fluidity, I’d argue that figures like David Bowie and early 70s glam rock were more influential. At that time, feminist perspectives on music often leaned towards artists like Holly Near, who were seen as better representatives of feminist ideals. The high-energy, powerful stage presence of punk rock was sometimes viewed by those I knew as a throwback to traditional machismo. Nevertheless, having women like Joan Jett, Penelope Houston, and others fronting punk bands was a significant departure from the norm and a noticeable shift. This integration and visibility of women in punk undoubtedly paved the way for more diverse gender expressions in music and culture, even if gender fluidity itself wasn’t a central topic of discussion at that time.”
Was there any self-reflection that you did during or after the writing of this book? Did it make you think about anything? Did it change your perspective on anything?
“Writing the book led me to deeply reflect on my life. Like everyone, I had constructed a story of my life that cast me in a heroic light. This process forced me to question my own narrative and motivations. Several characters in the book are based on real people I interacted with, some of whom I had harbored animosity towards. Writing the book required me to confront those feelings and consider if they were justified.
This reflection allowed me to delve deeply into my experiences and the wounds I had sustained, fostering a process of forgiveness for both myself and others. I gained a new perspective on my pain, the pain inflicted by others, and my goals, recognizing how some were illusory and others inevitable. For instance, the people who ostracized Phillip because he didn’t want to be upwardly mobile were not making a moral choice but a survival choice. Phillip's presence made them nervous because he was confronting the same crisis of how to live life as an inheritor of white middle-class privilege—whether to embrace it and become part of the system or reject it and face a different set of challenges.”
Is there anything else that you’d like to add? Anything you’d like the people to know?
“Yes, I ultimately want this book to be seen as satirical. It is heartfelt and doesn't make light of serious matters, but it examines the drama of youth, ambition, art, and political ambition from a perspective that highlights its absurdity. Throughout the writing process, I was influenced by various authors, including Bukowski and Proust. However, the one who ultimately guided me the most was Voltaire. Voltaire wrote about war and misery in a light and easy manner, allowing readers to be amused while gradually realizing the gravity of the subjects he addressed. He managed to balance humor and serious reflection in a way that I aspired to emulate in my own work.”
WannaBeat is available for purchase through all major book retailers, you can purchase it on Amazon here. A huge thank you to author, David Polonoff for taking the time to conduct this interview, and to Trouser Books for organizing this.
